


Greg Lestrade: Skull-sitter

by SlashingToTheDeath



Series: Skull Chronicles [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Childish Sherlock, Comedy, Drunken foolishness, Greg is babysitting, Greg's birthday, Humor, It's the skull again, M/M, established relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlashingToTheDeath/pseuds/SlashingToTheDeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg's acquaintanceship with Sherlock's skull.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greg Lestrade: Skull-sitter

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, it's me again! I seem to have fallen in love with Sherlock's skull. I keep writing about it. I have even more ideas for it.

Sometimes Greg wondered why John would put up with Sherlock's eccentricities and extreme faults. His answer always was because John loved Sherlock and would follow the man till the day he died. However that didn't explain why Greg took Sherlock's skull home with him after work the day John came in to finish up the paperwork for their last case.   
Greg had returned to his office to find the doctor had gone and a skull sitting on top of the folder John had been writing in. There was a sticky note attached to its forehead. He ripped it off and read it. 

**Keep this for me for awhile**

It was written in John's handwriting. Greg looked down at the skull. He narrowed his eyes. It looked extremely familiar. Then it dawned on him. This was Sherlock's skull. His eyes grew wide. John had walked into New Scotland Yard with a human skull! 

_Oh my lord..._

Without much options, Greg took the skull home with him when he clocked out for the night. He knew better than to bring it back to 221B Baker Street. It was obvious John wanted to get rid of the skull or else he wouldn't have risked bringing it into the Yard. 

Upon reaching home, Greg took the skull out of his bag and took a good look at it. It was in really good condition. There wasn't a speck of dust on it. There were no cracks and it wasn't rotting away or turning brown. Briefly he wondered how Sherlock kept it so clean. Greg quickly banished the thought. He didn't want to know. Instead, to keep himself from thinking about it, he looked around his living room. 

_Where can I put this?_ He thought to himself. He didn't want to put it in an obvious spot where anyone can see it. It wouldn't do to have people spot the skull and start asking questions. Next thing he'd know, he'd be sitting down with a psychologist, paid for by the Yard, to determine whether he was sane or not. 

Greg chose to place the skull inside the cupboard that stood in the left corner of his living room. It faced away from the door and stood behind the couches. He opened up the top wooden door and deposited the skull on the second shelf, next to the other knick-knacks he collected over the years. Gently he closed the door. 

He mentally pat himself on the back for successfully hiding the skull from plain view. Most his guests and friends didn't have bad habits of rummaging through his stuff. As long as he doesn't open the cupboard in front of others, no one would know Sherlock's skull was inside. 

Greg smiled tiredly as he headed to his bedroom, ready for a good night sleep. The world didn't agree with him though. Just as he sat down on his bed and began untying his shoes, his cell phone rang. Greg fetched it out of his jacket pocket and flipped it open without looking at the claller ID. He didn't need to. 

"Hello, Mycroft." He said as a greeting. 

_"Hello, Gregory."_ Mycroft answered back with a little chuckle. 

"How are you, tonight?" Greg asked him. 

_"I'm fine, thank you for asking."_ Mycroft said. _"And you?"_

"Tired but ok." Greg smiled at the floor. 

_"How's my brother's skull doing?"_

"... I take it, it wasn't Sherlock's idea to drop his skull off at my office." Greg wasnt' surprised Mycroft knew about the skull. It was shared knowledge between Greg, Sherlock, and John that Mycroft bugged Sherlock's flat. He probably had cameras in every corner and hearing devices in cracks around the flat. 

_"No, John decided he has had enough of Sherlock's friend."_ Mycroft chuckled. 

"Hmmm, what am I supposed to do with a skull?" Greg asked Mycroft. 

_"Whatever you're comfortable with,"_ Mycroft teased him. 

"... I'm hanging up now." Greg said just as he yawned. 

_"Good night, Gregory."_

"Good night, Mycroft." Greg pulled the phone away and ended the call. He placed the phone gently on the night stand next to his bed. He stripped down to his boxers before climbing into the warmth of his bed. He closed his eyes, ready to fall asleep. 

His phone rang again. With a sigh, he picked it up. 

"Hello?" 

_"Would tomorrow night at nine be ok for you?"_ Mycrof asked. 

"Yes, I'll have dinner ready by then." Greg grinned. A warmth was spreading in his chest at the thought that Mycroft would drop by tomorrow. 

_"Alright then, sleep tight Gregory."_

"Night," Greg placed his phone back on the night stand. He turned onto his side, facing the wall, and closed his eyes. He drifted off to sleep quickly. 

**MYSTRADE**

The next night, Greg was putting the finishing touches on the spaghetti sauce when Mycroft came walking into the kitchen. Greg didn't notice him at first. He was so entranced in stirring the sauce that he didn't hear the front door unlocking and opening. He startled and jumped when Mycroft wrapped his arms around his waist and pressed a wet kiss to his neck. 

"Mycroft!" Greg shouted out of reflex. He dropped the wooden spoon he was using into the pot. Greg whirled around. He glared at Mycroft but wrapped his arms around the man's neck. 

"Don't do that." He whispered into Mycroft's lips. Mycroft chased his mouth as Greg pulled back teasingly. 

"Isn't that what a surprise is supposed to be about? Startling the target?" Mycroft asked a bit distracted by Greg's lips. 

A smile spread across Greg's face. He chuckled and placed a small peck on the man's lips. "Yes but it doesn't include giving your love a heart attack." 

Mycroft took hold of the back of Greg's head and pulled him forward. He crashed his lips onto Greg's. Greg moaned and opened his mouth to teasingly flick his tongue against Mycroft's lower lip. The man opened up immediately and plunged his tongue into Greg's mouth. 

"Mmm..." Greg hummed as Mycroft's tongue twisted around his tongue and massaged the wet appendage. 

They pulled away with a pop. 

"Good evening to you too." Greg purred. Mycrof smirked. He pecked the inspector on the cheek before looking past his shoulder. 

"Spaghetti?" He asked simply. 

"Your favorite." Greg smiled brightly. He turned around to finish making the sauce. "Why don't you wash up?" He suggested. 

Mycroft pulled away to head upstairs to shower. Once Greg heard the shower turn on, he sped up on his stirring and seasoning. Mycroft was quick in the shower. He didn't waste time in pampering himself unnecessary. Greg had about ten minutes before Mycroft would jog down the stairs in a pair of sleepwear and a grumbling stomach.   
Greg grabbed the two plates of spaghetti off the counter and poured the sauce into each one carefully. He carried them over to the table and set them down. He placed the cap on the sauce pot just as the shower turned off. Greg looked up at the ceiling, listening for Mycroft's soft footsteps. As he listened, he started washing the utensils he used.   
Mycroft came bounding down the stairs while Greg was drying the pot he used for cooking the spaghetti. 

"Where is Sherlock's skull?" Mycroft asked as he entered the kitchen. Greg turned around while drying a plate. Mycroft was dressed in a pair of navy bue pajama bottoms and a white T-shirt. His hair was still dripping a little. Greg took a whiff of the man's scent when Mycroft came closer. He smelled like Greg's cucumber body soap. It made his heart flutter to know Mycroft now smelled like him. He always loved it. 

"It's here somewhere. I made sure it's out of sight." Greg placed the plate in the dish rack and joining Mycroft at the table. "Don't want people asking questions."

Mycroft was already pouring the wine Greg had set out for them. Greg thanked him and took a sip of the wine. 

"Understandable." Mycroft smiled. He took a bite. "Where is it though?" He asked. 

A playful glint appeared in Greg's eyes as he smirked at the man. "Can't you deduce where it is?" 

Mycroft arched an eyebrow. Challenge accepted. He placed his fork down and looked around the kitchen. Then he got up and headed into the living room. Greg picked up his plate and walked with him. Along the way, he kept eating. Mycroft may be ok with eating later but Greg was starving. 

"You said that you didn't want anyone to be able to see the skull. It would cause unnecessary problems both privately and professionally. Therefore it cannot be anywhere near the door. You don't have room or anything there to hide the skull. You won't put it near the window. You're too close to the street, anyone can look in and see it. No, you need some place that isn't so easily seen or penetrated. The drawers on the tables next to the couch is not an option. Guests and friends might open them. It's too big a risk." 

Mycroft turned to the stairs. "Hiding it in your room is not something you'd do. You'd find it creepy with a skull in your room while you sleep. I already checked the closets in the hallways. It's not there. It's not in the guest bedroom because that's extremely high risk. That leaves," Mycroft turned to the cupboard in the living room. He approached it and opened up the doors. A soft smile spread across his face as the skull greeted him from the second shelf. 

Greg placed his plate down and clapped. He hated it when Sherlock deduced things but Mycroft did it with such grace that he couldn't resist liking it. 

"The cupboard is a good choice, Gregory." Mycroft commented before he closed the doors and headed back to his dinner. Greg followed after him. 

"Thank you." He accepted the compliment happily. 

**MYSTRADE**

Sherlock barged into Greg's office and slammed the door shut loudly the next day. Greg looked up, not surprised at the intrusion.

"Sherlock, what do you think you're doing?" Greg scolded him. However Sherlock slapped his words aside. Instead the detective slammed his hands down on his desk and looked at Greg with intense eyes. 

"I need to file a missing person's." He said. 

"Who's missing?" Greg sat up straighter and gave Sherlock his full attention. He grabbed a piece of paper and pen, ready to write down the missing person's information. 

"My friend." Sherlock said. 

"John's missing?" Greg almost panicked. 

"What? No, John's fine. My friend is missing." 

"Isn't John your only friend?" Greg was at a lost. 

Sherlock looked like he wanted to roll his eyes at him. "No! John is my lover. He's my boyfriend. Why would he just be my friend? I'm talking about my friend! He's missing!" 

"What friend?" Greg shouted. Then it dawned on him. "Oh, you mean the skull?" 

"Keep up, Lestrade." Sherlock snapped his fingers at him. 

"Why do you think your skull's missing?" Greg was confused. Didn't Sherlock know that the skull was with him? 

"John said that my friend wanted to stay with you. He's lying. He probably lost it. That's why he's not telling me the truth." Sherlock explained. 

"..." Greg dropped the pen and paper. "Sherlock, it's a skull. I can't file a missing person's on it." 

_Should I tell him that John wasn't lying? He really did leave the skull with me._

Sherlock looked at him like he was crazy. "Why not? What kind of inspector are you? My friend is missing!" 

"He's not alive! He hasn't been for some time now! He can't be a missing person!" Greg shouted just as loud. 

Sherlock pulled away and charged out of his office while screaming "you're useless!" 

"..."

**MYSTRADE**

The incident with the skull died down after Sherlock barged into his office. Three months had gone by without a peep about the skull or a sign that Sherlock was still concerned with it. By month two, Greg had already forgotten that he had the skull. Then came his birthday. 

Surprisingly, Molly, John, and Sherlock appeared at his door step at nine in the morning carrying platters of food and presents. It was even more surprising when he saw Mycroft had arrived with them and was carrying the cake. Greg figured that they'd celebrate his birthday later on in the evening. Apparently he thought wrong. 

The two smiled at each other once they were all inside. 

Mycroft gave him a soft peck on the lips. "Happy birthday, Gregory." 

"Thank you." Greg blushed. 

"Get a room." Sherlock pushed past the two to get to John. Greg sighed. 

"Not to be rude but what are you doing here?" Greg asked him. 

"John," Sherlock replied as if that answered his question. Not only did it not, it left Greg even more confused. Luckily, John came out of the kitchen with his present. John smiled as he walked by to set the present down on the coffee table with the rest of the presents. 

"What he means is that I asked him to come today. There's no point in him staying at home and tearing it apart in search of cigarettes." John gave Sherlock a warning look. The detective rolled his eyes. 

"One wouldn't hurt." Sherlock countered. 

"Cold turkey, we agreed." John pointed at him before heading back into the kitchen to help Molly. Sherlock stayed behind to look around Greg's living room. 

"Well, I suppose you can sit... or stand..." the atmosphere became awkward when neither Sherlock or Mycroft moved. They just stood in place, Mycroft looking at Sherlock while he had his arm around Greg's waist and Sherlock pointedly ignoring them. 

Gently, Greg pulled away from Mycroft. "I'm going to go help Molly and John." 

Mycroft nodded. Greg made a quick escape to the kitchen. It was quick enough though. Sherlock followed behind and cornered him in the hallway.

"Where are they?" Sherlock asked in a quiet voice so no one would hear. 

"Where's who?" Greg asked. 

"Ugh!" Sherlock whirled around in exasperation. "Where are your smokes?" He asked in a rough whisper. 

"I'm not giving them to you." Greg said with a disapproving frown. 

"Where are they?" Sherlock slammed his hand onto the wall. Greg pushed him away. 

"I don't have any." Greg announced before walking away. "You shouldn't smoke anyway. You promsied John." 

"Argh!" Sherlock roared before stomping back into the living room. 

Greg walked into the kitchen to find Molly giggling about something John was telling her. John was taking the covers off the containers of food they brought over and Molly was looking for the plates and silverware. 

"Here, let me help you." Greg walked over to the shelf above the counter where he places all his plates. He opened it and pulled out a stack of plates. It was more than they needed but he rested it on the table anyway. Then he fetched the silverware. 

"Thank you, Greg." Molly smiled. 

"Yes, thank you, now get out." John pointed at the hallway with a joking smile. "This is your birthday. You shouldn't be helping us. You should be out there having fun." 

"What fun? Mycroft and Sherlock are out there together." Greg snorted. "I'm not stupid enough to get in the middle of that." 

John laughed in agreement. 

The two of them opted to stay in the kitchen while the Holmes brothers are out in the living room, probably trying to stare each other down. However, eventually they had to leave the kitchen. John and Greg walked a little behind Molly as they headed back into the living room with some drinks. 

Much to Greg's predictions, Sherlock was glaring at Mycroft and Mycroft was staring right back at him. It wasn't a glare. It was just an emotionless stare. Greg fought hard not to swat Mycroft across the head. It was a bad habit to stare at people like that. Instead, he sat on the arm rest of the single couch Mycroft sat in and handed him a glass of the champagne Molly brought over. Mycroft tore his gaze away from Sherlock to accept the glass with a smile. 

"Thank you, Gregory." He said. 

"You're welcome," Greg smiled back. They held gazes for a couple seconds before looking away. Greg looked across the room at Sherlock. The detective was seated at the long couch directly across from Mycroft. He had sprawled his long limbs out as far as they would go, as if claiming the couch as his. Greg watched as John simply shoved Sherlock's limbs aside and sat down. Sherlock glared at him but John wasn't paying attention. He simply handed over the glass of champagne and turned away to conduct a conversation with Molly. 

Sherlock continued to glare but when he realized he wasn't going to get a reaction, he sipped at his champagne in pouty silence. Greg fought hard not to laugh at him.   
Molly stood from her seat and lifted her glass into the air. Uncharacteristically she shouted "happy birthday Greg!" with a charming wide smile. John repeated her words with a matching grin. 

"Thank you," Greg said honestly. He tapped his glass with theirs and they each took a sip. When he sat back down next to Mycroft, he felt an arm encircle his waist. Curious, Greg looked down. Mycroft was digging about in his suit jacket's inner pocket. He looked up at Greg. 

"I have a present for you." He said in a calm and quiet voice. The room grew quiet immediately. Everyone, even Sherlock, had their eyes on Mycroft as he continued to look for the gift. Greg shifted in his seat so he faced Mycroft. 

Eventually Mycroft pulled his hand out. His fingers were closed tightly in a fist around a tiny object. Slowly he got up and got down on one knee. Greg jerked away in surprise. 

_He's not doing what I think he's doing is he?_

"Gregory," Mycroft said in his most happiest voice. "Marry me," he said as a finale. Gently he opened up his palm and sitting in it was a ring. It didn't have a giant diamond on it and Greg was glad there was no diamond. He wasn't a woman. He didn't need a giant rock on his finger. The ring was a simple white gold band. 

_Yup, he is doing what I thought he was going to do. Though what happened to the box?_

Greg cocked his head and stayed silent for a while. After several seconds Mycroft began to look unsure of himself. His bent knee shifted a bit and his hands shook slightly. Mycroft's eyes were beginning to lose their shine and the pupils wavered a bit. 

"Oh say yes already!" John shouted. 

"We all know you want to!" Molly chimed in. 

Greg shot them a glare for interrupting. They giggled and placed their fingers to their lips teasingly. Greg looked back at Mycroft. 

"Umm..." He didn't know where to begin. 

Mycroft's eyes grew big with hope. 

"Oh what the hell, alright, yes!" Greg shouted as he surged forward and dived into Mycroft's arms. Mycroft hugged him tight but not without capturing his left hand and slipping the ring on his finger first. Greg rolled his eyes. He held Mycroft's head still and planted a big wet one on his lips. 

"Oh, get a room," Sherlock growled. Greg and Mycroft ignored him. 

When they pulled away, Greg lifted his hand to admire the ring. He felt like a woman who was getting married for the first time. His face was flushed and he was on the brink of exploding from the happiness that's building rapidly inside him. 

He wrapped his arms around Mycroft's neck and leaned heavily on the man. 

"Though, I got to ask," Greg cocked his head in curiosity. "What happened to the box?" 

"It was met with an unfortunate accident." Mycroft said. 

"What kind of unfortunate accident?" Greg probed. Mycrof turned to give Sherlock a look. 

"Sherlock decided it would be best if it took a trip down the garbage disposal. Luckily, I was getting the ring resized when he made the decision." Mycroft said in a threatening voice. 

Greg couldn't help but laugh.

"To Greg and Mycroft! May you have a happy engagement and wonderful marriage!" John shouted across the room. 

"To Greg and Mycroft!" Molly cheered. 

The rest of the day was spent celebrating Greg's birthday and his engagement to Mycroft. They ate the cake, ate their meals, and got roaring drunk. At some point of the day Greg was positive he heard Molly singing a Christmas song. At another point of the day, he swore he heard Mycroft and Sherlock laughing loudly about something from their childhood. He wasn't sure though. That seemed a bit absurd even for two drunk brothers who have tremendous issues between them. 

However in the end, everything went quite fine. Until Sherlock began looking for smokes again. Some point after dinner, Sherlock decided he needed a smoke. John had flat out denied him once again and that was the end of that conversation. Everyone had moved to the living room with more champagne. Sherlock didn't give up though. He went searching around Greg's house. He was convinced that Greg had smokes somewhere. 

Greg, who was still pretty much drunk, left him to it. He knew he didn't have smokes. He gave it up about three years ago. It was a hard habit to kick and he wasn't going to regress into such a nasty and deadly habit. Therefore he concluded that there was no harm done in letting Sherlock search the house. 

How wrong was he? 

Not ten minutes into the drunk detective's search, Sherlock had come across the one item that he didn't know was in Greg's house: the skull. 

"My friend!" He exclaimed the moment he spotted the skull in the cupboard. Greg never seen John move as fast as he did outside of chasing down suspects. Within seconds, John had sobered and was climbing over the back of the couch to get to Sherlock. Sherlock had taken the skull out of the cupboard and was staring at it. He whirled around to face Greg. 

"You lied to me!" He pointed an accusing finger at Greg. 

Greg looked confused for a moment. The alochol was stunting his brain's capacity at processing new information. When it registered that Sherlock was talking about the skull, Greg faked ignorance. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." He shrugged and looked away. 

"Don't lie, it's unbecoming." Sherlock talked forward with the skull high above his head. John was desperately trying to get a hold of it. It was really comical to watch. Sherlock was almost a head taller than John. With his arm held high up in the air, John had to resort to jumping up and down like a child trying to reach the cookie jar on the dinner table. 

"Three months ago, I said my friend was missing. I was suspicious in why you were reluctant to help. So it was you! You... You... You kidnapper!" Sherlock sobered a bit, albeit still drunk. 

"I did nothing of the sort!" Greg shouted back. The alochol was still affecting his judgement. "John gave it to me." Like a child, he pushed the blame onto someone else. 

Sherlock growled at Greg for daring to do such a thing as accuse his lover of a crime. He lowered his arms, readying for a fight. John, who was still trying to get the skull, used the situation to his advantage. He grabbed hold of the skull and attempted to take it away. Sherlock was quick though. He whirle around immediately and latched onto the skull with both hands, much like John just did. 

They glared at each other. 

"Let go, Sherlock!" John shouted. 

"No! Why would I?" Sherlock shouted in John's face.

"Just let go!' John pulled. 

"Oh! I get it! It really was you! You really gave the skull to Lestrade! How could you? He's my friend!" Sherlock tugged on the skull. John's feet dragged on the floor for a centimeter before he asserted his balance and pulled back. 

"It was for your own good! Now give it back!" John grunted. He was straining to pull the skull away. Sherlock was apparently stronger than he looked. 

"No! You skull-napper! How could you do this to him? How could you cause my friend such distress? You should be ashamed of yourself!" Sherlock cried. 

"That is enough!" John tugged on the skull with all his might. Surprisingly, Sherlock's fingers slipped off the base of the skull's forehead. John stumbled back a bit from the sudden lack of force working against him. He cradled the skull underneath his arms like a football player who had the ball and was running for a touchdown. He had one arm up protecting the ball while he shielded it with the other arm.

Sherlock, surprisingly, charged at John and slammed right into his stomach. The two men tumbled to the ground and began rolling about, trying to get the skull. 

"Mine!" Sherlock would shout occasionally. 

"No!" John would shout back. 

Greg just stared at the two grown men fighting over a dead man's skull. Eventually he began laughing and clutching his stomach at the developing cramps. He had long forgotten what the issue was. All he knew was that two grown men were rolling about on his floor like a couple of five years. 

The fun ended though when Molly walked over, plucked the skull from their hands, and returned it to the cupboard. She closed the door and then turned around. Everyone was staring at her with wide eyes. Molly stared back and then a smile broke out on her face. 

"Who wants some more cake?" She asked cheerfully. 

It was as if she was a miracle worker. The moment she mentioned cake, John and Sherlock had untangled themselves from the floor and floated into the kitchen with half-glazed eyes. It might have been beacuse their drunken states that made them so complacent because it was never that easy to break up one of their fights. 

In a moment of possible rare sobriety, Greg accepted the subject change and dragged Mycroft into the kitchen for more cake. Molly followed behind. 

They spent almost an hour in the kitchen devouring the rest of the cake. When the cake was gone, Molly annouced that she was leaving. She had an early shift tomorrow and needed the sleep. John agreed with her that it was time to leave. By then, Greg was ready to drop dead on any flat surface. His stomach was full and he was drunk and sleepy. The time was moving closer to midnight and he's been up since seven in the morning. 

He didn't argue with them when they pulled on their coats and left his house. The only one who stayed was Mycroft. Once everyone was gone, they headed upstairs and climbed into bed together. Greg drifted off to sleep quickly with the warmth of the blanket and Mycroft's defining scent wrapped around him. 

The next morning when he headed downstairs to clean up the house, Greg noticed his cupboard's doors were opened and the skull was gone. He searched the house while he cleaned out the leftovers of the party but couldn't find it anywhere. The skull had disappeared. 

_Strange..._

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, my readers, leave me your thoughts and allow them to guide me onto the next story. lol


End file.
